Shooting Stars
by kouichi kimura 4eva
Summary: An AU story told through mainly the eyes of Itachi and Kakashi with a little bit of Sasuke as well. Itachi struggles to find out who had killed his parents on that faithful August day.
1. Chapter 1

1.

_Some are born mad. Some remain so.  
-__Samuel Beckett_

* * *

I never did like the summers. Even when I was just a little kid they had always bothered me day in and day out until I would finally give in and join my dog Pakkun on the floor. I would always watch him lay there on his fat stomach panting and drooling as though he had ran a marathon. It was the kind of sight that is amusing to watch at first but then slowly becomes boring; almost like everything that I encounter in my life.

I fan myself and glance over at the T.V. that is currently on the weather network. Extremely humid and hot the weather-man says almost enthusiastically which makes me almost want to chuckle out loud. Who is he trying to fool? No one in their right mind would be happy about this kind of weather. Well, no one but Obito at least; the idiot who was always so enthusiastic about everything that he would even think having a heat wave in the middle of June was a gift from God.

"Am I right Obito?" I ask out loud knowing that no one is there to reply back.

No one there to reply back...

It's funny that the silence still bothers me when I sit in my kitchen drinking my morning coffee and Obito's favourite tune would come on from the radio. Even after so many years it still bothers me.

A knock startles me from my routinely thoughts of Obito. Sadness gets the best of me whenever anyone interrupts me from thinking about my deceased lover. But then I am almost relieved at the same time. Relieved that I no longer have to think about that goofy smile that I miss so much; the taste of those lips that I still long for.

"_You're such bad kisser Kakashi!"_

I place my green fan down and lazily make my way to the door knowing exactly who it is. With this kind of weather staying seated only makes things worse seeing as how everything sticks on sweaty skin and makes a wet ripping sound when you get off your ass. Not that walking is any better but it does beat sweat stained skin ripping off leather by a long shot.

I reach over to the door knob and pull open the door, welcoming the humid air onto my face and into my apartment. With no more than I slight nod, I greet Itachi Uchiha as I know his reason for being here.

"Rent?" I ask half smiling and half scratching my head to rid myself of an imaginary itch as I rest myself on the side of the doorway.

He nods in response and slowly reaches into his pocket to take out the check. Without as much as a grunt he hands it over to me and stays in silence. I look at him for a while and examine his features.

Nothing.

Not a slightest bit of emotion on that face of his. I have known him since he was a teenager and it's always been the same. Whether people would come up and try to talk to him or greet him it's always that same emotionless reaction. Occasionally they would try to start up a conversation by prying into his personal life and asking him about his family affairs, his social life, and etc. But he'd always just nod and send them away, showing them that he couldn't care less. I guess he has more important things to worry about then to get involved with anybody.

I take the check and glance at it curiously. Not that I suspect him of fraud or anything, I just find the way he always makes the check out to me a bit fascinating.

"Mr. Hatake" it says across the check. He never just addresses me by just "Kakashi" like any other person who has known me for a reason amount of years. It's always "Mr. Hatake" even when he talks to me. I do wish he would drop the formality though since there's just something about it that lacks intimacy among friends. That is, if that's even our relationship. But if that's part of his eccentricity then I have no right to tell him to stop. I know I wouldn't want anyone telling that I couldn't talk the imaginary presence of Obito in my house.

"Is there a problem _Mr. Hatake_?" he asks with emphasis on the formality almost as though he knows that it would bother me. Again, that same smug look even when he teases someone.

"No, thank you. But you do know that you didn't have to pay until the end of the month right? It's still early," I say trying to ignore his previous sarcasm.

"I prefer to get things out of the way."

"I see," I say glancing at the eye-catching handwriting again. He always pays two weeks before the rent is actually due.

He turns around to leave and as usual without a "Goodbye" or a "See you later." He tucks his hands into the pockets of his black shorts and walks off lightly; back to the first floor that he and his brother lives on.

"Goodbye Itachi, have a nice day!" I shout out with a smile for the first time that I have known him in seven years.

He suddenly stops and glances back at me as though I had offended him in some way. He scoffs and continues to walk back to his apartment without a second glance. And then he disappears down the stairs as his footsteps die down.

Perhaps I did offend him in some way…

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

Summer is the one season that I truly detest. Unlike some people who hate it for its humidity and its hotness, I hate it for its reminder of flesh rotting in the hot weather and the smell that results from the days it has been baking in the heat. I remember the first time I smelt it I wanted to vomit on the spot. But perhaps my fear struck so bad that I could not even perform that simple task. Finding both my parents killed and left there for days to rot will never leave my mind as long as I am alive. Maybe Sasuke was too young at the time to comprehend the situation since I refused to let him enter the house. But as he became older he began to realize the truth and closed himself off to the world around him. Perhaps he has lost all trust in people seeing as how he realized the extent of the cruelty of humanity. With me though I had lost trust in humans way before the murder as my father would always remind me of how "cruel" and "evil" they were each day. His frequent alcohol fueled cursing about the family business going downhill was enough to give me a vivid image of the world of adults. A world full of deceit and backstabbing that almost made me hate growing up in fear that I might become one of them someday.

So the murder was not much of a surprise for me, it was more of an epiphany of _how_ cruel and evil humans can be.

I almost chuckle at the irony behind the murder. How it is so ironic that my parents were killed in the middle of the living-room where I caught them both having sex there one night when I got up to go to the bathroom.

Fate truly does know how to keep one entertained…

The sound of the door opening brings me back to reality as I look up and spot our building's grey haired landlord.

"Mind if I drop in?" he asks me causally even though already knows my answer.

I nod in response like I always do whenever he decides to drop by unannounced. I don't know why he even bothers to ask since he already knows that I'm accustomed to his visits after I drop off the rent. Perhaps it is an attempt at politeness.

"So where's your miniature clone?" he asks with a hint of humour in his voice.

"You mean Sasuke, I presume?" I ask while heading to the kitchen to make some green tea. Mr. Hatake's favourite.

He chuckles with that idiotic attitude of his. "Are you saying there's someone else living with you and Sasuke?" He smirks while reaching for the furniture magazine that I had left out on the coffee table this morning.

"Should I be charging for an extra person, Itachi?"

I come back to the living room to wait until the water boils. Maybe I shouldn't even bother to boil the water for Mr. Hatake's tea. He always waits until it is completely cold before drinking it anyways. But I don't blame him, hotness is a disgusting feeling.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" he asks me without looking away from the magazine, knowing full well that his sarcasm bothers me. Especially when I'm in a foul mood like today.

"No, I just don't see the point in replying to your stupid remarks."

"Rough night, huh kid?" he finally looks up and meets my eyes with his grey ones.

I turn around and walk back to the kitchen and pretend that I'm checking on the water. But in reality I just want to avoid another one of his pointless lectures that I always have to deal with whenever he decides to "drop by".

I hear the pages of the magazine rustle. The annoying sound of pages being turned. The sound that I was always used to hearing everyday when I came home from school when mother and father would go through furniture magazines and decide what they would like see in our small living room if they decided to renovate it. Sasuke would always peer over the coffee table in curiosity just to see what they were discussing. Of course, he didn't really understand the purpose behind flipping through those magazines seeing as how he was still too young. To him, it was just something grownups did.

"You know, silence doesn't answer my question."

"Well what would you like me to say?" I mumble while pouring the boiling water into the mugs containing green tealeaves. I concentrate on the water as it slowly changes into a light green to get my mind off of the disgusting warmth from the steam.

I hear an annoyed groan followed by the sound of the magazine being placed on the coffee table. Though, I could care less whether someone is annoyed with me or not.

I hear another groan, except this time the sound is a lot lazier. And closer. The sound of approaching footsteps don't faze me one bit since I'm used to this little habit of Mr. Hatake's. He always gets up and approaches me whenever he's annoyed or is getting ready to give me one of his many lectures that I never listen to. Right now I think it's a little bit of both, seeing as how I annoyed him by not answering his question which usually results in him giving me a lecture. It's like one can't exist without the other. He can't lecture me if I answer his questions and he can't ask questions if I listen to his lectures. All I have to do is cooperate with him and he'll leave me alone.

And yet I never do.

Strange. It's as strange as the man in the room below Sasuke and I who is always conversing loudly to nonexistent people in his room. Perhaps he and I would get along quite well.

His footsteps get closer. Their rhythm almost mimicking the ticking of the orange kitchen clock that Sasuke bought because he broke the last one. I still don't know what happened that day though. All I witnessed when I came home day was a young girl running pass me and crying while Sasuke was crouched in the middle of the kitchen gathering up the shards of broken glass from the old clock. I thought about asking him what happened though, but knowing Sasuke he probably wouldn't tell me anyways.

He never tells me anything.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, kid. You shouldn't stress yourself out," he says as he eyes me without any kind of emotion in his voice.

"I don't think you understand your place Mr. Hatake. You're not my parent, so I advise you to not waste your breath lecturing me. What I do does not concern you."

That usual looked that he gives me after I remind him that he is trespassing on forbidden territory crosses his face. It's neither a look of anger nor disappointment, just plain annoyance. The wonders of Mr. Hatake.

"I tried," he groans as he steps forward from the counter he was leaning on. He casually walks back to the living room probably to get his tea as his fading footsteps once again match the ticking of the kitchen clock. It baffles me that the simple sound of his footsteps gives me the feeling of ease and comfort. Its light sound almost makes me want to forget everything and go to a place without any burdens. I think I would be happy if all I had was an empty room and the sound of Mr. Hatake's footsteps fading in and out for the rest of my life.

My assumptions of Mr. Hatake retrieving his tea from the coffee table disappear as I see him opening the door to leave.

"Leaving so soon? What about your tea? You haven't even touched it." I say purely out of common courtesy.

"It's too warm," he says while closing the door behind him.

I smirk to myself while thinking about Mr. Hatake's strange state of mind. It's almost a relief to know that there is someone as strange as I am that exists in this cruel and dark world. Someone that is always in his own little world who regards anyone that tries to pry into his personal space a trespasser. Though he handles it better than I do by being nice and then brushing them off to avoid showing any kind of malice towards them. All it takes is one little lie to keep outsiders out of his world. It's almost like some sort of defense mechanism to ward off unwanted intruders. Though, I don't believe in lying. It's a waste of effort to even bother giving someone a false explanation of why you don't want to bother with them in the first place. Besides, lying and deception is what made this world such a dark place to live in. But sometimes, it's probably better to live with ignorance than with full awareness of the things that goes on in this life. At least, that's what I wish I was able to do.

Our circumstances may be the same, but the little lies that Mr. Hatake slips into his life are what make him and I so different from one another.

I take Mr. Hatake's cup to the kitchen to pour it out. Its content suddenly splashes on my hand as I approach the sink making me flinch and shattering the ceramic cup on the floor.

I curse under my breath (a habit I probably picked up from Mr. Hatake) as I rub my hand on the side of my pants quickly, trying to rid myself of the disgusting warmth that made contact with my skin. The warmth that made the hairs on my neck rise up as though a cold breeze had run down my neck. The last thing I need to remember the suffocating air of that mid-August afternoon that started all the turmoil in my life and Sasuke's.

I step over the glass, not caring whether the shards are piercing through the soles of my feet or are being pushed aside by my movements. Before, it was just the hot weather that bothered me, but now barely hot liquid that my landlord refuses to drink because of its temperature was enough to send me over the edge. I can only imagine how much worse this is going to get for me.

Instinctively, I lean against the counter to get a hold of myself. Lately, I've been a bit absentminded to my surroundings that even Sasuke has questioned me a few times about what is going on. Perhaps I should listen to Mr. Hatake's advice and take it easy. But then I don't exactly want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I actually listened to him. Taking it easy isn't going to help me figure out the murderer of the late Mr. and Mrs. Uchiha.

I slowly slide down towards the floor despite the amount of glass on the floor and ignoring the cuts the glass is making on my ankles.

As I rest my head against one of the doors of the cupboard, I look up at the clock and count the number of ticks I hear.

_Tick tock…tick tock…_

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading Chapter 2 will be up shortly.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

_The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living._

-_Marcus Tullius Cicero_

* * *

I feel a little bad about not drinking the tea Itachi went out of his way to prepare for me. Although it was nice of him, it wasn't necessary because it wouldn't have cooled off in time for me to drink. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him that since he had already started to boil the water at the time.

Pakkun groans as he turns to his side when I walk by.

"The heat bothering you too old mutt?" I ask crouching down beside his small body, observing the pink tongue hanging out of his mouth as he answers back with a groan. His drool reminds me of Itachi's sweat.

"Damn, should I have told Itachi that I didn't drink his tea because of this hot weather, Obito?"

I smile as I dismiss the thought, figuring that it would be more interesting for Itachi to think that there's some sort of mystery behind my dislike of warm tea. Having Itachi scratch his head over this "conspiracy" would probably do him some good by taking his mind off the whole situation with his parents. It's a surprise that he's even able to juggle an evening job and school at the same time while in such a state.

I nudge Pakkun's fat belly with my foot to tell him that I'm going out for a bit. He answers back with what I can make out as another groan. That lazy mutt.

"Look after Pakkun for me, alright Obito?" I call out to the empty living room. As always, there's no reply. Just the sound of the fan running and Pakun's constant panting.

I heard somewhere that pretending the person who has passed away is still around helps to get over their death easier (1). As crazy as it sounds, just talking to them like normal and acting like nothing has happened to affect their existence on earth is supposed to help. At least that's what Rin told me at Obito's funeral. But at that time I didn't care, I would have believed any bullshit to get rid of the pain that his death caused. Hell, if she told me to jump of a bridge to ease the pain I probably would have done it.

I bite my lip as I remember the moment Obito got his brains blown out by the thief he was chasing after. He would have caught that bastard if it wasn't for me. If I hadn't trip on that pothole, Obito wouldn't have had to jump in front to cover the gunshot that was directed at me. Everything happened so fast. Soon police cars came by and the thief was brought to the police station.

And so was Obito's body.

I stood there helpless as I watched the once top police officer of the city being hauled away in a stretcher with in a white sheet over his body. The bloody stain became bigger and bigger on the sheet as the paramedics moved his body to the ambulance. It was almost symbolic. The pure white sheet stained with blood was pretty much Obito's death in a nutshell. Pure innocence slowly drowning in a sea of crimson red.

Immediately after that, I resigned from the force not wanting to deal with the constant reminder of Obito's death on a count of my carelessness. Every time someone said "Oh, I'm sorry for your loss" or "He was a great guy" I came close to losing it. One time I even punched out Asuma just because he offered to take me out for a coffee when I came back from a double shift. So quitting was my only option. It was for the good of me and the force since I would've ended up behind bars if I continued working the way I was. Obito would have been ashamed if I had completely snapped and harmed everyone that I had sworn to protect. That, or he would have came back and haunted the shit out of me.

"_Kakashi, you asshole. You shouldn't have killed that old lady that you're supposed to help cross the street." _I chuckle at the thought. Even as a ghost he'd probably just end up making me laugh instead of scaring me.

"That Obito…" I chuckle once again. If only he knew what I would give even just to see him as a ghost. As long as I get to see him, I could care less if he came back just to haunt me. But the closest I can get to that is listening to Obito's favourite jazz station every morning. Having that familiar tune play through the kitchen brings back that nostalgic feeling of Obito living with me. The familiarity of his love for jazz and how he would always go on about Peter Brötzmann (2) and other jazz artists that he barely knows anything about almost makes me sad. Sad that I don't even like jazz in the first place. Too bad he died thinking that I was even remotely interested.

I wonder if he knows now.

I usually don't tell people much about my past because it's really none of their business. The most they could probably get out of me is my name and that I like a lot of things. But I did fill Sasuke in on this whole ordeal when Itachi asked me to look after him when he was only ten. At the time he said he had to go "deal with some issues" and not bothering to tell me or Sasuke what exactly those "issues" were. I didn't mind though, I figured I could just play with the kid a bit and put him to bed when he got tired. But he wasn't like any kid that I've seen. All he wanted to do was to talk to me and ask me questions about things he didn't know about. I don't know what came over me, but before I knew it, I ended up blabbing the whole story to those curious eyes that were eagerly looking up at me. Everything from A to Z came out of my mouth and into his little ears. At first I was a bit skeptical that he even had the patience to sit there and listen to everything I had to say, but as time passed my story came to an end and he was still listening.

What started out to be a discussion about each other's favourite kinds of cookies ended up being a revelation of a part of my life that I had locked up and tossed away the key. It was also then the pain from every memory of Obito started to ease up a bit. Especially when Sasuke told me that I looked like I was in the same pain as his brother. I guess we both are the same because of our losses. But Itachi's situation is completely different. Way different.

"See you later Obito."

Perhaps the day I hear a reply is the day I'll finally be happy again.

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

"Oi, Kakashi!"

I turn around in this scorching hot heat to an all too familiar voice that nearly startled me.

"Oh? And what brings you here, Mini-Ita?"

Sasuke pouts as he walks towards me. "I told you not to call me that," he replies with irritation. "I don't look like him."

"Your genes prove otherwise." I reply back.

Sasuke grunts back in response unlike that brother of his. At least I can actually have a decent conversation without feeling like I'm taking to myself or to a wall with this one here. In other words, he makes me feel less crazy.

"You didn't answer my question." I remind him.

"Do I really owe you an answer?"

"Point proven."

"What?"

And he says he's nothing like Itachi. I wouldn't be surprised if he picked up that "annoying Kakashi by not properly answering his questions and making him repeat himself" attitude from his brother.

"You're really getting old. I don't even know what you're talking about anymore," he grumbles under his breath even though he knows full well that I can hear him perfectly. I hope he doesn't end up like Itachi in a few years. They're both already similar enough; having another Itachi is unnecessary in my opinion. The kid's still too young to be isolated by his own bitterness. Thank God for a certain blonde that entered his life.

"I'm heading to Naruto's house," he suddenly states cheerfully despite the grumpy look on his face. Ever since he met Naruto he's been quite different. Before, as I watched the boy grow up I began to worry that he might have been spiraling into the same direction as Itachi. Cold, and completely detached from the world around him; limiting himself to the ability to open up and let someone in.

I don't know why I cared so much then and even now for Sasuke. It's like some sort of natural instinct that I have for him. Though, Itachi made it pretty clear that I'm not their "parent" and that I shouldn't be sticking my nose in their business, but it comes so naturally that even I get a little worried sometimes. I guess his little mishap about two years ago really sparked the paternal instincts within me. Maybe I saw how much of a shitty life he was leading with Itachi watching his every move that I just had to step in despite the older man's protests. I just couldn't stand around watching as Sasuke became more like Itachi every day; slowly rotting away in his own loneliness and loath for the one who killed his parents. His attempted suicide was enough of a scare, I can't imagine what he would do if his state of mind had gotten any worse. Perhaps kill Itachi?

"Well, I gotta go."

"Oh really?" I look up at the blue sky and notice the small bits of clouds floating about. One of them resembles Pakkun. But the wind blows and it changes shape. Now it's a doughnut…a flower…a bird…a bear…Obito.

"Yeah, bye." He waves at me as he runs across the street to an orange house with its front bombarded with frog ornaments. As I raise my arm to give an absented minded wave to Sasuke's back I see an excited blonde practically burst out of the house and tackle Sasuke, like he was standing by the window waiting for him to show up.

"Hey, you idiot!" Sasuke yells at "the idiot" as they both fall on the concrete ground with a loud 'thud.'

Then he smiles. The smile that Sasuke never had before he met Naruto. I had gotten so accustomed with that sour frown of his that even now when he smiles it seems like something foreign and forbidden; something only reserved for Naruto.

"Get a room lovebirds!" With that, Sasuke immediately turns around with a nasty glare while his little idiot hides in his neck with a slight blush asking him who I was. All I can do is walk off with the sense of a job well done.

But what I said to them is true. I know that what Sasuke has with Naruto is beyond "friendship." Despite his constantly nagging that they're no more than just buddies, I can see right through him. Their relationship is exactly like mine and Obito's. They way they try to hide their relationship from Itachi and I and their public display of affection with one another practically screams more than just friends. Except with Obito and I, an innocent little tackle often led to more than just cuddling. But I could be wrong on that, who knows what goes on behind those orange doors.

Frankly, I don't want to know.

I give the Obito cloud another look. "Tell me, are you really here, Obito?" I ask it. The cloud continues to move along the direction of the wind and stretches as the gust picks up, making him seem as though he's widening his smile like in the good old days whenever he saw me. But as the cloud stenches and breaks apart I realize that I'm alone once again. Alone and in the middle on the sidewalk talking to a cloud.

"You were supposed to be watching Pakkun, you idiot." I say watching what's left of Obito float away.

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

The bandages itch. I should have thought twice about it before sitting on a floor covered in glass. Sasuke's going to be asking a lot of questions when he gets home; one including where his favourite cup went.

I look through the documents that I dug up not too long ago from father's old desk. Everything from his business associates to his bank history are stored in these files. He even kept the letters that were exchanged between him and his colleagues during their business transactions. There are so many papers that it's impossible to looked through all of them and I'm afraid that eventually I'll give up when I'm just one step away from resolving all of this.

Day in and day out, I look through the same files over and over again and find nothing. Everything is in pieces; much like that cup I had just broken.

I skim the names in the files again. I think I've practically memorized every name on here since I look at them about a hundred times a day. There are so many possibilities that's it's hard to pin down who was likely to have hated father and yet was close enough to kill him.

"_Just give it up."_

It's ironic isn't it? Getting close to someone for the sole purpose of ending their life. Especially when you're the one they least expect to do such a thing. It must hurt. Not just from physical agony, but the agony of knowing that the one you trusted had betrayed you. And for what? Money? Power? Lust?

This world is disgusting.

As I leaf through the dusty files that are brown from age, one name catches my attention.

Hoshigaki Kisame?

Various notes are jotted below that name but are irrelevant to the information that I'm seeking. But there is a number next to the name in brackets. Both the name and number isn't father's handwriting. It's more messy, but nonetheless still legible.

"Hoshigaki Kisame…" I repeat it like it's a foreign language. "If you're even partly responsible for all of this, I wouldn't hesitate to kill you in a second."

I hear the phone ring in the distant. Its faint sound echoing through the room never fails to annoy me; especially when I find myself in my own world trying to forget that I still exist and that the crap Sasuke and I are going through is just a nasty joke from God. Maybe it's actually an amusing joke and I'm just not getting the punch line because of my lack of sense of humour.

Either way, I'm still pissed.

I silence its wailing as I pick up the receiver without hesitation. Maybe I should tell Sasuke to get a less annoying phone while he's out shopping for a new cup.

I sigh with obvious annoyance and decide to end this conversation as quick as I can to avoid any unnecessary disputes that might arise from my lack of interest. Either that or I just hang up on them like Mr. Hatake does with telemarketers.

"Oi, Itachi?"

Speak of the devil.

"What is it, _Mr. Hatake?_"

He sighs like he always does when I use such a tone with him. Clearly he knows that I would be annoyed if interrupted me at this time, and yet he still calls.

"Look, I know you're doing your 'daily research' right now, but you need to do me a favour."

Typical. He never asks weather I _could_ do something for him, he always assumes that I _will_ do it no matter what.

"I need you to show a new tenant around the apartment. I'm busy right now."

Before I can even answer, he hangs up. I was about to decline, but now I don't think I have a choice but to comply with what he asked of me. Now that I think about it, how am I supposed to show this tenant around when I don't even know how he looks like? Sometimes I suspect that idiot of a landlord of mine lacks common sense. Or maybe he just likes screwing around with me. Each time we meet in person, he always tries to figure out my state of mind. The way he carefully follows my movements and speech gives off the vibe that he's trying to determine the meaning behind my actions. And each time I look at him he would always give me a little smile; like a form of mockery stating that he was successful at figuring out the motives behind my actions. But often times I feel that's not the case. Sometimes I think that smile is more than just a victory smirk; rather, a smile of understanding.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, YOU CAN'T HELP ME? I ASKED NICELY DIDN'T I?"

I turn to the direction of the noise. We rarely get any disturbances around the neighbourhood, so this is a bit unusual. I remember there was a time when a couple of teenagers tried to pick a fight with Mr. Hatake outside the apartment a few years back. Since they were actually stupid enough to try and fight him while a police car was parked across the street, they got arrested in an instant. According to Sasuke one of them got pissed off because Mr. Hatake ignored him when he asked for change to use a pay phone. I wasn't surprised at Mr. Hatake's actions and neither was Sasuke. It was typical of him.

I glance down the balcony to find a tall man with a lot of blue on yelling at Mrs. Simmons from the ground floor. I can practically see the poor lady shaking in front of him.

"I…I'm sorry but I'll get someone stronger to help you, Sir." I hear her small voice tremble. Surely, he wasn't expecting her to help him carry all those boxes was he? That would be too much for a frail woman like herself.

"Are you the new guy?" I call from the balcony.

Both of them look up –the blue guy a bit irritated and Mrs. Simmons relieved. She takes advantage of my little diversion to run back inside to her apartment. I can't imagine how much this guy actually scared her. He doesn't look too bad from up here.

"It's not very nice to yell at old ladies, _Sir_." I tell him with a hint of the tone I often use with Mr. Hatake.

"Well, she was giving me attitude! " He kicks one of his boxes and immediately regrets it after hearing something that sounded like glass shatter. "Oh shit! My vases!"

For some reason, this guy seems pathetic beyond repair. So pathetic that I can't help feeling like I should at least help him with the boxes. Besides, I can't risk having him stir up the whole neighbourhood over his glass vases.

As he calms down a bit, he beckons for me to come down to help him. This doesn't take long, luckily for him. The second floor isn't far from the ground level.

"Are we calmer now?" I ask as I approach him. Now I can see why Mrs. Simmons was so terrified of him. He's a lot bigger in person than I thought. Not that it matters to me since he's probably just a big moron with temper issues.

He doesn't say anything. He simply picks up the box he had just kicked and throws it in the dumpster parked next to Mrs. Simmons' window. "No use keeping this junk. It's all broken now," he mutters to me.

"Then why did you kick it in the first place?"

"Why are you askin' such a stupid question?" He retorts in a huff. This is coming from the guy who kicked his box full of glassware out of anger. I highly doubt what I asked was more "stupid" than what he did to his vases earlier.

"Do I owe you an answer?" I reply back as I help him carry his other boxes.

I hear a forced snicker followed by what I can make out as the word "asshole" muttered under his breath. "Please, just help me already. I'm not exactly in a good mood." He reluctantly pick up his remaining boxes and heads on inside with his ugly blue flip-flops slapping against the newly polished floor that Mr. Hatake had had done a couple of days ago.

"You the landlord? You look a little too young." He grunts as he throws the boxes into his apartment. I'm guessing there's no more glass in the remaining boxes since he didn't freak out this time.

"I'm not." I reply while setting down the two boxes rather than throwing them. "My landlord told me to show you around but you seem to know your way around well enough."

"The hell? I made it clear that I was moving in this morning when I spoke with him. Did he forget or somethin'?"

"Forget? I highly doubt that."

He gives me an awkward look. Unlike the usual people I run into who give me intimidated looks when they approach me, this man looks at me like I'm the strangest person he has ever met. Rather than looking away and avoiding eye contact, he just stares. This is quite strange and new to me. I've been so used to others backing away with caution after meeting me that I've forgotten that sooner or later I was bound to run into someone who could care less about whether I liked them or not. Someone who doesn't care about anyone else but themselves and would leave me standing there staring back instead of glaring to keep them away.

Selfish bastard.

"Sounds like your landlord is a bit of a nutcase." He sits on one of his boxes and kicks off those ugly flip-flops of his. "I'm going to be in and out for a while. I still need to get more of my crap from back home."

Why is he telling me all this? I don't know. But I should just bare with him for a while longer until I can leave without seeming rude. I can't have Mr. Hatake bothering me about being rude to a new tenant when he gets home. Besides, more tenants mean more money for him.

"Right. If you need more help just let me know." Again I say this just out of common courtesy like I did with Mr. Hatake earlier today. I have no interest in helping someone as pathetic as this man.

"Great! Come by tomorrow morning when I get back with my other stuff!" He cheers enthusiastically. "I can take you out for coffee afterwards as payback."

I hold back a chuckle. Payback? I was so used to hearing that word when I was younger. Except when father used it, he often meant something else. I've lost tracked of how many people father had "paid back" during those years that it was funny. All the times when the family of those who he dealt with came to the front of our house screaming and cursing the man with all that was holy doesn't seem too long ago. At first I felt a little sympathy towards them whenever I saw them crying desperately at our front door asking "Why did you kill him?" or "Why did you get him fired? He needs the money to support the family!" But then it happened so often that I just accepted that that was just part of our world rotting from the inside. That, or perhaps I just thought they got what they deserved for whatever they did to father.

An eye for an eye.

"Very well," I tell him. But I don't intend on going out for coffee with him.

I turn around to leave but he stops me by clearing his throat. "Your name?" He asks like I was supposed to have told him earlier.

"Uchiha Itachi." I reply back as I started to walk again without any interest in asking him back.

"Nice to meet you, "Itachi." Hoshigaki Kisame's the name."

I think I'll have that coffee tomorrow after all.

* * *

(1) My friend told me that this is how some people cope with losing someone close. It helps ease the pain to just pretend they're still there when they're really not.

(2) Peter Brötzmann- is among the most important European Jazz musicians musicians (Wikipeidia).

Thanks for reading! Please Review!

Chapter 3 soon!


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